This poem was inspired by Andre Bendavi Ben-Yehu's recent post Calling the Name of God. It is done in 1-22-333-44-1 rhyme and 9-9-18-9-9 lines.

Women full of mystery were once praised
When humans were new upon the earth
Before the idea of religion was given birth
They were the ones who knew the ways
It was they who learned to count the days
And saw the truth of herbs and prase
The knowledge passed by word of mouth
From ancient Neolithics in the south
To an art they magic raised.

They watched o’er the people, forests and glens
In villages small and tiny backvelds
From the southern Etruscans to the northern Celts
To them the knowledge the ancients did remand
The very elements of nature obeyed their command
And their healing potions and magics in constant demand
For sixty-five centuries they watched and cared
Generation to generation the knowledge they shared
So Strong were their acumens.

As time passed as it always must
From the wise women these tenants of life grew
First, harm to all we must eschew
That good to us should be passed on
Our word is to be relied upon
Harmony with nature is not a paregon
Kill nothing save to keep our life
Differ if we must, but without strife
Treat no one’s beliefs with disgust
Be true to self and calm of soul
Know your companion with love and compassion
Care for others according to need not fashion
Keep sacred the days and the nights
Reserved for our Goddess’ holy rites
Keep these ways and life will be free of blights
Keep you safe and nightmares away
And blessed you’ll be at work, rest and play
Such was their wisdom to keep humankind whole

So it was in times ancient and true
When women were wise in the ways of the earth
And those who knew them knew their worth
Praised and respected them for their skill
In a time before the pen and quill
A time when life was more tranquil
And the forests were young and the oak tree a shrine
When the moon was our calendar and hunting was fine
That those days are gone we should all rue

For the life we lead now is full of pain
And humankind is unsafe and unkind
Where real honesty is hard to find
The courts and the prisons are filled to the brim
Where justice is often at somebody’s whim
And the outlook of life for many is often grim
Oh, could we return to those gentler hours
When we worshiped our Goddess in pleasant bowers
And life was far less profane.

Copyright 2003 Bobbi Duffy